


good omens (sailor/siren au)

by vyradak



Category: Good Omens
Genre: M/M, Sailor AU, Siren/Sailor AU, siren au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyradak/pseuds/vyradak
Summary: crowley is a siren, aziraphale is a sailor. that’s pretty much it.





	1. Chapter 1

Every day at 6 am, Aziraphale left his cozy beachside cottage to sit on the dock. Most days he would read, often poetry, rarely the news. He could likely be described as “out of touch”, in terms of current events and such. He’d never felt the need to know what was happening in the world. He was used to being alone, as his “friends” were constantly at sea, and he’d grown accustomed to isolation. The out-of-touch-ness just added to the experience.   
He sat on the dock reading something-or-other by Shakespeare, and for a moment everything was as it always has been. Until a head popped out of the water.  
“erm- Hello,” Aziraphale said, as politely as he could manage after the startle.  
“Hi.” said the head, which had now proved that it was, in fact, connected to a body (or at least shoulders).   
There was a painful silence as the two stared at each other, unsure of the next step to conversation.   
“Out for a swim?” asked Aziraphale, who was anxious to get back to his book but wanted to display proper manners. The mystery swimmer awkwardly gestured behind him, where Aziraphale saw a black fin poking out of the water.   
“Oh.” was all he managed to say. He considered, momentarily, that the siren didn’t realize who he was speaking (you could hardly call it that, as the siren had said exactly one word) to, but quickly realized that there was no other reason he’d have been sent over to the secluded beachfront Aziraphale lived by. After a good 15 seconds of quiet, Aziraphale spoke again.  
“Are...are you going to sing?”  
“Excited to be lured into the sea, are we?”  
Aziraphale was taken aback by the man’s witty, multi-worded comeback but continued the discussion nonetheless.  
“I should think not.”  
“Right. What’s your name, then?”   
The siren was now leaning against a rock as if having a casual conversation with an old friend.   
“Aziraphale,” the sailor said, sitting up a bit straighter. “You?” he asked, once it was established that the answer wouldn’t come unprompted.   
“Crowley.” the man- merman, rather- answered, now preoccupied with something under his nail. “What’re you reading?”   
“The Two Gentlemen of Verona.”  
“what’s’t about?”   
Crowley knew damn well what it was about, but was desperate to keep the sailor talking. It was such a rare occurrence, a sailor who didn't run from him, that if would be quite a waste to let the interaction die.   
“It’s one of Shakespeare's classics. Two men living in Verona, one of whom goes off on a journey of self-discovery, and one whom stays for his lady-love. I’d recommend it.”   
Aziraphale was known to jump at the chance to talk about a book but tried to limit the chatter, remembering past criticism from Gabriel.   
“Sounds boring,” said Crowley, nonchalantly. he was lying, of course, but he was unexplainably compelled to impress the sailor with his... rudeness.   
Ignoring the urge to defend Shakespeare, Aziraphale asked something that can probably only be asked of friendly sirens and lazy missionaries:  
“Why aren’t you trying to, you know... convert me?”  
The siren thought for a moment, then said   
“You seem awfully nice. I’d hate to ruin your day. Besides, the ocean’s a fucking hellhole. All this pollution and such. I really don’t think anyone should have to live down there.”  
Aziraphale considered this for a moment.   
“Understandable,” he said. It wasn’t. Sirens were supposed to lure people into the water with their irresistible songs, and god knows there were bonus point to be earned if you got an experienced sailor. Everyone lured in became a siren, though not all made it past the first week. It seemed the first rule of sailing was simply ”kill sirens”. The point is: sailors and sirens were, per se, on opposite teams, which was what made it so peculiar that here one of each sat, having a casual discussion.   
The pair sat in silence again, Crowley studying a rock, Aziraphale studying Crowley.   
“So... what brings you over here?” Aziraphale asked, upon deciding the quiet had lasted too long.   
“Oh, you know. Beelzebub just said ‘go out there, find this one sailor, convert any others you find along the way.’”  
“Why me, do you think?”  
“Low hanging fruit, perhaps. You almost never leave land, not much of a sailor, are you, Aziraphale?”  
The question itself sounded almost hostile but was spoken softly.   
“There are many jobs I’d rather have than sailor, but all that matters is keeping family tradition alive. So long as I go out on the water once a month, I get to keep the title, and my father rests peacefully.”   
He said it very matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t mind never being able to do something he actually wanted to.   
“I see,” Crowley said, still pretending not to pay attention.  
When it became clear the conversation was going nowhere, Crowley muttered something along the lines of “best get going”, and without another word, his head disappeared under the water.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they chillin (this one’s pretty short but the actual plot stuff starts soon)

When the next day rolled around, Aziraphale had nearly forgotten the strange siren. Forgotten, perhaps, wasn’t the right word, rather the interaction sat at the back of his head, along with every thought besides those concerning the plot of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.  
He went on sitting and reading for about 20 minutes before he happened to look down and notice something moving in the water. At first, he wrote it off as seaweed but quickly realized that seaweed doesn’t come in reddish-brown.  
“Crowley?” he asked the not-seaweed.  
Crowley poked his head out of the water.  
“Yes?”  
“What are you doing down there?”  
“I live here, you know. Cause of the whole siren thing.”  
“I don’t mean the water. Why here specifically?”  
“Thought I’d pay you a visit.”  
“Well, you certainly haven’t been doing much visiting.”  
“I’m here, aren’t I?”  
“I suppose. But you were hiding.”  
“I wasn’t hiding.”  
“What were you doing, then?”  
“Watching you read.”  
“...Oh. Right.”  
The two thought in silence for a moment, Aziraphale wondering why Crowley thought that kind of thing was normal, Crowley wondering why Aziraphale didn’t.  
“What book is it today?”  
“Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”  
“Oh, Alice in Wonderland.”  
Aziraphale sighed.  
“Yes. Alice in Wonderland.”  
Nothing bothered Aziraphale more than people misnaming classics because of film adaptations. Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but, still, it annoyed him quite a bit.  
Sensing that to be the end of the discussion, Aziraphale went back to reading.  
“Ah- You know, the folks over at HQ weren’t too happy when I wasn’t even able to bring back a land-lubber like you. You sure you’re not up for a swim?”  
Aziraphale looked as if he’d just been asked to jump off a building. In some sense, he had.  
“Kidding,” Crowley added, sending the mood. Aziraphale chuckled, picking up on the joke.  
“Gabriel wouldn’t be happy, either, if he found out I was actually /talking/ to you instead of turning the water around you red.”  
“Heh. Well, I’d better get going. I oughta get /something/ done today. It’ll keep em from looking into... this. Same time tomorrow?”  
“I’ll be here.”  
The next few days went the same. Days became weeks, weeks became months. Discussions by the dock became routine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh god oh f

The day began as days always did: Aziraphale got dressed and, just as the clock struck 6:00, sat down on the dock (this time holding Breaking Dawn, which Crowley had wanted to read, but couldn’t exactly hold a paperback).  
As usual, Crowley swam up to the dock around 6:08.  
“Morning, sailor boy.” He said, resting his head next to Aziraphale's leg.  
“Good morning, Crowley. How are you?”  
“Better, now that I’m with you. I need to tell you something, though. I’ve been able to keep doing this because I can complete my assignments quickly, but... you’re my main assignment, now.”  
“What?”  
“They really want me to, you know... get you. I think something big is about to happen. They’re really cracking down on us. They want sailors, specifically. Makes you think there might be a big...”  
Aziraphale had stopped listening. He stared out onto the horizon, wondering what this would mean for him and Crowley. He couldn’t sacrifice himself. He and Crowley would have even less time together, and he’d have to ruin lives daily. He couldn’t just stop seeing him, though. For a moment, he felt the true weight of being entirely trapped.  
“We could go somewhere else. away from all the sailors and sirens.” Aziraphale blurted out. The thought had barely entered his head before he spoke.  
Crowley looked confused, then giggled. “I think you’re forgetting something,” he said, gesturing to his tail.  
“We’ll figure it out. I just... Wouldn’t it be nice? To leave it all behind? We wouldn’t have to worry about being on “opposite teams”, or whatever. We could just be two people in love, away from everything else.”  
There was a long pause.  
“Two people in love?”  
“i- no. That’s not what I... That isn’t what I said. It’s irrelevant. I just- I’m- My point is: let’s run away. I’ve got a boat. We can make it work.”  
“I couldn’t swim next to the boat, though. The other sirens would see me.”  
“That’s okay, that’s okay. I can get a bucket!”  
Crowley snorted.  
“A bucket?”  
“Yes! I will get a very large bucket and fill it with water, and you can swim around in it until we end up somewhere where we can live together safely.”  
“You’re crazy, sailor boy.”  
He gazed into Aziraphale’s hopeful eyes for a minute.  
“Same time tomorrow?”  
“I’ll be here.”


End file.
